


Stiches

by Inthannon



Series: Stories of Evie Frye and Henry Green [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Assassin's Creed Syndicate - Fandom
Genre: Blood, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inthannon/pseuds/Inthannon
Summary: Evie gets into trouble and needs help in dealing with the aftermath. Henry obliges.I don't own either of these lovely idiots.Kudos are lovely and constructive criticism is wonderful.





	

The evening bustle of the Victoria station seemed to sink to the background as Henry watched the twins’ train pull up. It stopped and a few of the Rooks jumped out, off on some mission of mayhem for Jacob no doubt. Taking his chance, he leapt on just as the train started moving again. He was anxious to tell Evie the news. He often found himself anxious when it came to her if he was being honest with himself. From the very first moment he’d laid eyes on the elder Frye twin his heart had made an extra thump in his chest. She was something he was not expecting. Instead of a cold and calculating assassin she was a young woman who, despite all her training and all the lives she had taken, was still idealistic and relatively unhardened. She wanted to make the world better and used the skills she had been taught to try and make those changes. 

Henry had no illusions about her. She was an assassin and like all of them she had blood on her hands. Blood of those who would harm her and hers. Those who would take and take until there was nothing left. 

The train rattled on the tracks as it picked up speed and he made his way towards the front of the train where he knew Evie had adopted a nook as hers. The books he had obtained through some serious sneaking and pilfering swung in the bag he’d heaved over his shoulder as he jumped from one carriage to the next. He was just about to lay the books down on the table when a voice from Evie’s sleeping quarters pulled him from his musings. 

“Ah! Damn it!” The voice was Evies and came from behind the curtain that had been pulled across half of the carriage. Henry’s heart nearly stopped when he spied Evie through a narrow gap in the curtain. 

Evie was sitting on her bed with a bowl of pink water on the floor next to her and a pile of various bits of medical supplies scattered on the bed. She held a needle and thread in one hand clearly trying to put stitches in the long wound that ran across her left shoulder blade. She had not yet seen him as she was facing the other way, twisting to reach her back. 

For a moment Henry did not quite know what he ought to do. Intellectually he knew he should leave before she saw him, but the wound looked nasty and judging by the silence of the train there was no one else around to help her. He tried as best he could to avert his eyes onto the back of her head rather than the rather thin shift she apparently normally wore underneath her layers of jacket, corset and cloak that were all piled on the only chair in the cabin. He definitely did not notice the way her breasts shifted against the material of her shift as she twisted. 

Still trying to decide whether to turn away to preserve her modesty, and his own dangerously slipping self control, or help her, he must have made a noise because all of a sudden a pair of sharp blue eyes were looking straight at him. He blinked and dropped the bag of books. 

“Do you need a hand?” He managed to croak out, ending the sentence with a little cough purposefully turning his gaze to the corner of the room so as not the be tempted. 

“Please.” He could hear her shift on the bed and when he looked again, she was sitting on the bed facing the far wall. The cut was long and deep, running from the middle of her back all the way to her left shoulder. It had mostly stopped bleeding but the surrounding shift was in bloody tatters. He took the two steps into the cramped space required to reach the bed and sat behind her in silence. 

Trying not to crowd her, he reached for the white towel that was in the bowl of water, already stained with blood. As carefully as he could, he pressed it against the top of the wound where Evie had been stitching the wound. Reaching for detachment that was being stubborn about appearing, he nevertheless admired the neatness of the stitching she had managed despite the awkward angle. 

Dabbing away at the slight trickle of blood still leaking out he reached for the shift with his other hand and hesitated. “I’m… I’m going to have to move your shift Miss Frye.”

“Oh. Of course.” Evie had already cut open the shoulder seam to the gash on the back of the garment to be able to work earlier, but now that he was cleaning her back he needed to see the rest of the damage. Carefully not touching her skin, he picked up the bloodsoaked, lacy edge of the shift and pulled so that where the dried blood had still held it to her the shift came loose with a crackle.

Henry absolutely did not find himself intrigued whether the freckles that appeared on her nose and her back also made an appearance on the opposite side of her body. Tenderly he dabbed the blood away, and sought to control his own reactions before he would touch her bare skin.

“Have you got the needle?” he asked and as Evie leaned forward to get it from where if lay on top of the leather satchel the twins used for the medical supplies. Henry kept his eyes firmly trained on the wall above her head. He just nodded curtly in thanks when she glanced over her shoulder to pass him the needle, silk and a small bottle of raw alcohol that he poured over his hands, the needle and ligature.

As he began sewing he felt like he had to know. “What happened?”

“Bloody templars.” Evie’s voice came slightly muffled as she gritted her teeth against the sharp pains of the needle going in and out of her skin. “Please stop for a moment.” She asked and as soon as he paused, she leaned forwards again and picked up another bottle that was on the floor. Big and brown, Henry could smell the sharp tang of cheap whisky as soon as Evie pulled the cork off. She tipped her head back and took several long pulls before putting the bottle down and coughing at the taste. “Go on.” Her throat had been constricted by the sharp burn of alcohol that had turned her voice lower and a little scratchy. Henry gave himself a little shake and continued sewing in silence.

*********************************

Evie had been having a really bad day. Not only had Jacob rushed into her room that morning while she was still asleep and poured the beer he’d been holding sloppily in one hand, all over the last clean shift she had, but he had also started boasting loudly of how he and the Rooks had just been on a very successful raid to a brewery owned and operated by templars. A raid and a celebration afterwards, apparently.

Thanks to her brothers rather intoxicated state she had been forced to wear the thin, threadbare emergency shift she kept at the very bottom of her clothes trunk, rather than the new thicker one that was warmer. She especially cursed him as she was sitting at the very top of a tall post in the cold winter wind and rain, spying on a group of Blighters that were transporting something that seemed rather important if the number of the bastards guarding it were any indication. And everything had kept going further downhill from there. The Blighters weren’t actually guarding anything, but the whole transport had been a ruse and a trap to draw her out. No doubt planned by the devious Lucy Thorne. 

Then, as soon as she began her approach and took out the first guard one of the ones that had seemed to never look up from the ground jumped to his feet and started shouting. With a shock Evie had realised that the gang members had placed small mirrors on the ground that allowed them to observe each other without seeming to be doing so. In a mere moment she was completely surrounded by five men and women who were dead set on making her dead. Only her skills with the sword cane and luck allowed her to escape, but not before one of the big brutes managed to score her back with a big knife of some kind. She’d just about made it into a big pile of leaves before the thugs had rounded the corner. Eventually they’d cleared off, but by then she could feel wetness all across her back and her head swum as she stood up. Eventually she made it back to the train and staggered to her room. 

Once she’d managed to wriggle out of her ruined jacket and corset and piled them on the chair, she’d cut the shift over her left shoulder and tried to inspect the damage. Gathering the things she needed for stitching the wound took what felt like an eternity and then she’d proceeded to try and tend to the wound. 

She didn’t know exactly what it was that alerted her to his presence, maybe the fact that whenever they shared a room she could feel him like an electric charge, but eventually she became aware of her audience. He averted his eyes as soon as she looked at him, but judging by the rosy tint on his tanned cheeks, he had seen more than anyone else apart from Jacob had ever seen. She blushed herself and accepted his hoarsely voiced offer for aid.

The wet towel had been cool on the agony of her back but it was his hands that truly made chills run up and down her body. The gentle heat as he carefully stitched the wound shut made her want them all over her. That thought was so overpowering that she had to ask him to stop. To cover her reaction to him, she reached for the bottle of whiskey and took several deep pulls until the burn became so much that she couldn’t stop the cough that wracked her body and relit the torment of the cut. Thus distracted she recounted her story of the failed mission to him as a distraction from the way his hands felt. 

“Miss Frye. I wish you would be more careful. I- I fear your brother would become unhinged should something happen to you.” He was right, but she couldn’t stop the sting of crushed hope as he spoke only of how her death would affect Jacob. ‘But what about you? How would you feel if I died?’ she wanted to ask. But that wouldn’t be proper and she did not want to risk alienating him. If his friendship was all she could have, she would hang on to it tooth and claw.

“And I must confess…” she twisted her head slightly to be able to watch him out of the corner of her eye. “I too would miss you- your company… I mean while researching.” rather lamely he finished the sentence, cutting the final thread of the stitches. His tan cheeks had a definite darker tint to them and Evie could not stop the little smile that rose to her lips. 

“I shall endeavour not to disappoint Mr. Green.” He gently dabbed the line of stitches across her back with the wet towel before reaching for the bandages. He pulled apart the two strips of fabric, sticky with a honey and herb mixture and then carefully laid them on top of the cut. Evie could hear him breathe deep before he hoarsley replied: “Good.” His warm hand lay on her shoulder, big and comforting and Evie felt a shiver start deep in her core and run down her spine. He must have felt it, because suddenly he drew his hand away and rose from the bed.

Evie rose too and held her shift closed at the front when the slashed shoulder threatened to cause it to slouch down. “Mr. Green?” she uttered hastily as she turned to see him half way through the curtain. At her words his dark eyes flitted to her and the heat in them was enough to make her blush deeper than ever before. “I’m afraid I might need your help in one more thing.” he nodded, not saying a word. “I cannot raise my hands above my head.” He looked at her still in complete silence, but not understanding. Evie turned her back, her heart hammering so loudly in her chest she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d heard it. “Could you cut the other shoulder as well please?” 

************************************************

Henry thought he’d lost his mind. First she’d agreed to stay safe for his sake and then he’d laid his hand on her shoulder and she’d shivered so deeply for a mad second he’d thought she was badly feverish. Now she had turned her back to him while blushing a deep scarlet that he knew reached below her neckline, thanks to the ruined shift that seemed to only stay on her because she clutched it to herself. She wanted him to cut the rest of the shift off of her. He knew that Evie could have done it herself, she had after all cut the first shoulder herself, but that just added to the thrill of the moment. She wanted him to touch her.

Heart so far in his throat he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t pass out from the lack of oxygen he took the few steps required to reach Evie and pulled one of the small throwing knives from his belt. Reaching for the thin material at her shoulder, he couldn’t stop himself from purposefully enclosing her shoulder in his hand to see how small it would feel in his hand. She shivered again and he could have sworn a little gasp escaped her lips.

As slowly as possible, he pulled the shift up and sliced through the thin fabric along the shoulder seam before letting the fabric fall. Despite the large swath of bandages across it, her back was something he would dream about for the rest of his life. Pale and freckled her shoulders were strong and narrowed to her waist in a way that made the heart still in his throat miss a beat before jumping into a full gallop.

Swallowing thickly, he quickly turned around the heat on his face reflecting the heat in other parts of his body. He was slightly startled by the depth of his voice as he asked “Anything else I can help you with, Miss Frye?”

“Thank you Mr. Green.” Her voice seemed less than steady too. “I believe I can take it from here. Thank you very much for your assistance.” 

“I shall wait for you in the other carriage.” he managed as he pulled the curtain open so as to leave her to get dressed. “I have some new information for you.”

“Of course Mr. Green. I will be there as soon as possible.” her voice grew fainter as he scooped up the fallen book bag and practically ran from the carriage and jumped, pulling himself onto the roof of the other one. He needed some fresh air before looking her in the face again, he grimaced adjusting his trousers. Cold air if at all possible. And as always, London provided.


End file.
